Castle Family Album: The Memory Book
by Liv Wilder
Summary: She makes a mental note never to lead him on. Right then and there on her own doorstep with the power she can so effortlessly wield over him blatantly on display, she forbids herself from pursuit of any kind. No matter how hard this gets - going it alone as a single, working parent – no matter how scary or needy or alone she feels, she will never take the easy path and lead him on.


_A/N: Thank you for supporting this series. This next instalment picks up where "Blurred Lines" left off. The relevant image is the cover photo for this story & the correctly oriented image is on Twitter at livwilder2_

 _Hope everyone has a good weekend._

* * *

 _"I meant what I said and I said what I meant. An elephant's faithful one-hundred percent!"_

 _\- Dr. Seuss, Horton Hatches the Egg_

* * *

 ** _Castle Family Album_**

 ** _The Memory Book_**

Sunday arrives with an early morning dash to the bathroom after she attempts to make a bowl of warm oatmeal on an empty stomach. So instead of her head staying buried in the sand, where it has been for the last several weeks, she faces a morning with it firmly upended over her toilet, and then later, once she's been out for some fresh air and a stomach settling bagel, she has her head buried inside her closet, rooting around for possibilities for the week ahead - items of clothing that are still wearable but don't scream: "I'm in my second trimester and I haven't shared the good news with my boss yet."

So, yeah, her "To Do" list is definitely getting longer and more complex than usual. And though she spends some of the day dealing with the past week's laundry - Castle's handkerchief included - she realizes with a sinking heart that a lot of the clothes she's just washed won't be wearable for very much longer anyway.

* * *

She saw his text around nine, a quick glimpse at her phone wedged in between brushing her teeth for the third time that morning and changing jeans for the second time because the button refuses to fasten on the first pair.

She contemplated how to reply while silently cursing Castle for a whole entire list of things she knows aren't even (all) his fault as she lies back on her bed wriggling her hips into the same pair of boyfriend jeans she had on yesterday. It's as if telling him about the baby and presenting him the scan photograph has somehow given her body permission to swell like a watermelon overnight. Even these loose cut jeans, which are supposed to look fashionably baggy – hence the name: "boyfriend jeans", borrowed from her boyfriend, though she doesn't currently have one, only some factory-torn jeans that purport to have once belonged to someone's boyfriend, and what a weird line of thought that's becoming.

Anyway, even these jeans are starting to feel too snug around her midsection, and crap, that'll mean a shopping trip to some hideously expensive maternity boutique or the pastel colored corner of a Midtown department store where a small selection of unattractive, voluminous, rushed items in various colors of jersey fabric hang cheek-by-jowl alongside the strollers, cribs and other less familiar items of motherhood she has no interest in drooling over for the next several months.

She's not cut out for this!

A sudden wave of panic flashes over her that makes her face feel hot, her breathing rapid and shallow and the rest of her body go icy cold when she reminds herself that it's too late to back out now. She's on a path she can't get off. Her body will only change even more, the manner and date of her baby's birth will loom, not to mention she's tied to Richard Castle and his family forever, and short of giving the child up for adoption, she has no other option than to embrace the whole mess and run with it.

She runs to the bathroom to throw up again instead, sinking onto the cold tile floor when she's done, her forehead pressed to her knees, the mass of her growing child a solid feature she can no longer deny when her body is curled up tight like this. She needs to tell Montgomery before someone notices her work dress style has become distinctly less tailored and her partner's correspondingly suspicious absence can no longer be explained away by her still being mad at him for trying to help solve her mother's case. Because she's not that mad anymore, at least not about that. She's passed from being mad about his decision to ignore her feelings, her explicit request to leave well alone, his determined sense that he always knows better, into a state of restless confusion. She doesn't have the energy or the headspace to devote to being angry at him for this infraction from their past. What she does have is a continual torrent of confusing thoughts as to how she should be feeling about him now, especially after seeing him again just the day before for the first time in months.

Her brain reels with realizations that clatter down on top of her out of nowhere, as unexpected and anachronistic as golf ball sized hailstones on a summer's day. Richard Castle is now the father of her child. He's gone from being her favorite author to her erstwhile work partner (with whom she had a one night stand) to the one person on earth who will know what it feels like when she finally gives birth to this baby and they gaze at her for the first time together and feel what it is to be her parent. He's the only person in the world who will share the intensity of her worry, her joy and her pride as their baby grows from infant to child to teenager and eventually on into adulthood, and these are facts that can never be altered no matter who either of them might end up with in future.

That is so huge.

It's huge and it makes her sad, and in pockets of calm, in secret, quiet moments it makes her beyond grateful that if she's doing this with anyone, she's doing it with him. By extension that also means she's doing this with Alexis and Martha too, people who will draw Kate Beckett out of herself and into the light. People who can give her child the joy she let go all those years ago, people who live in a world where good is assumed and to whom bad things still come as a shock, an unpleasant surprise, and not an everyday expectation.

These are the thoughts she relies on to calm her fears, to slow her racing heart rate, to convince herself that everything will be okay. The rest is an endless parade of terrors marching through her brain at odd hours of the day and night, fears that creep up on her when her blood sugar falls or there's a lull in a case and Castle's empty chair becomes the regretful focus of her thinking. Without coffee to keep her going she is more lethargic than usual and she misses her sidekick, no matter how annoying he may have been in the past, no matter how disobedient a pet.

* * *

Later that evening, exhausted from retching, a bowl of _Sweet 'n Salty Chex Mix_ balanced on her stomach and a bottle of flat ginger ale sitting sweating on the coffee table as she stares mindlessly at a pair of turtles mating on PBS, she hears (horror of horrors) a familiar knock on the door.

She's already dressed for bed in dove grey jersey pajama pants and a loose tank top that does little to hide the new reality of her swelling breasts. "Jesus, Castle," she curses under her breath as she silently deposits the bowl of _Chex Mix_ on the coffee table. She's careful not to let it collide with the bottle of ginger ale while she weighs up whether or not to pretend she's not home. But it's already eight-thirty and she has work tomorrow. Where else is a tired, single, pregnant woman with no social life going to be at this time on a Sunday night?

"Beckett, I know you're in there."

 _Fuck!_

She sits curled over with her hands pressed to her mouth, elbows on knees, eyes winced half-shut, waiting, barely breathing in case he can hear her, which is utterly ridiculous but anyway.

She jumps at the sudden sound of his voice. "So…I'm just leaving something out here in the hall…and now I'm going. No need to answer the door…unless you want to, of course."

He says all of this in a kind of raised, theatrical voice, performing with the pitch of an unseen actor delivering lines of import from somewhere offstage.

After he finishes this little soliloquy, there's a long, hopeful silence where neither of them appears to do anything, and then Castle's voice rings out again, startling her for a second time.

"Right. Well, g'night. Hope you're…I'll speak to you soon. Okay... _bye!_ "

She hears what totally sound like fake heavy footsteps clomping outside in the hall, though she can tell it's just his lordship marching on the spot to make her think he's walking away. The fake steps have no receding quality to them and she sighs loudly and shakes her head at his pathetic antics even as she gets up off the sofa to go and answer the damn door, muttering to herself as she does so about her own pathetic antics.

But when she gets there, the hall is empty and there's only a small wrapped parcel lying on her doormat. Maybe those steps weren't so artificial after all.

"Ah, you _are_ there."

"Jesus Christ, Castle. What the hell!" Kate exclaims, when he suddenly reappears from the shadowy exit into the stairwell just as she dropped her guard to focus on unwrapping the intriguing parcel she found on her mat.

Her heart is hammering, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts and she's pretty sure her nipples are standing to attention beneath her thin tank top given the chill air out in the hall and Castle's very obvious preoccupation with that area of her body.

"Stop staring," she hisses, covering her chest with the only thing to hand – the gift he seems to have left for her.

He at least has the sense to look sheepish when he dutifully drops his eyes to look at the floor. "Sorry. I wasn't expecting… _that_ ," he admits, raising his hand to give her attire a once over, top-to-toe sweep.

"And I wasn't expecting company…so we're even," Kate nods, trying to dissipate the awkwardness of the moment by not sounding as cross as she usually might.

They stand like that for several long, drawn out seconds, neither of them speaking. Kate curls her toes against the bare wood of her floor and Castle's fidgety fingers jingle loose change in his pocket, until he cracks first and initiates a retreat from this awkward impasse.

"So…I guess I should just…" he offers reluctantly, jerking both his head and his thumb back down the hall as if he's trying to hitch a ride back to SoHo.

"Yeah, you probably should."

His face falls at her agreement. "Right. Of course. This was a mistake."

But Kate sighs and finds herself relenting when she watches him turn on his heel because what the hell and he did bring her some kind of gift. "But…hey, look, you're here now. Want a beer?" she asks, feeling her heart sink just a little when she sees the giddy, grateful light illuminate his face as soon as she steps back in order to give him space to enter her apartment.

She makes a mental note never to lead him on. Right then and there on her own doorstep with the power she can so effortlessly wield over him blatantly on display, she forbids herself from pursuit of any kind. No matter how hard this gets - going it alone as a single, working parent – no matter how scary or needy or alone she feels, she will never take the easy path and lead him on.

"You…you don't mind? You weren't in the middle of something?"

"Castle, if you thought I was in the middle of something, why'd you come by unannounced?" she huffs for effect.

He wags a finger at her, eyes still twinkling. "Good point."

"Well?" Kate presses.

He shrugs as if the answer is oh so obvious, and maybe it is. "You didn't reply to my text. I wanted to make sure you were okay. And…" He trails off, running a hand through his hair, maybe thinking better of his next remark before opening his mouth for once.

Kate arches both eyebrows. " _And?_ "

"If you were in the middle of… _something_ , then at least I'd know."

Kate is bemused by this final piece of reasoning. "Know what exactly? That I'm blissing out with a bowl of _Chex Mix_ and some random nature documentary on PBS? Because that's about as much as I'm up for these days."

"So…you're not seeing anyone?" he clarifies, even as he peers past her into her living room to double-check.

Kate frowns and splutters at the absurdity of his question even as she watches him finally walk into her apartment and then closes the door behind them.

"I'm three and a half months pregnant. Or have you forgotten already? I'd hardly call that a sign to go speed dating, would you?"

"Oh, I don't know. Heidi Klum met Seal when she was—"

"Okay, first off, in case you haven't noticed, I'm a cop, Castle, not a celebrity supermodel. And second of all…well, I don't really have a second point but my first one still stands. I'm not seeing anyone and I have no intention of seeing anyone."

"Good. That's...well, good," Castle responds firmly, genuinely relieved.

"But—"

" _But?_ " he butts in, instantly on alert for the other show dropping.

" _But_ …if I was to start seeing someone at some point in the future, I would definitely let you know."

"You would?"

"Of course."

"Are…is that something you're planning? I mean are you—"

Kate blows out a frustrated breath, heads for the fridge, gets Castle a beer and then returns to her sofa where he's still hovering at the far end.

"Sit," she instructs, handing him the bottle of beer.

Castle kicks off his shoes and dutifully does what he's told for once. Kate sits down at the other end of the sofa, his partially open gift resting in her lap. She peels off the rest of the wrapping paper to find a beautiful, hardback baby memory book adorned with the cutest graphic illustration of an elephant. The book has a turquoise, starched linen cover and the elephant is decorated with tiny Japanese beads. The whole thing is hand-bound with a striped, organdie ribbon binding.

She's too speechless and overcome to say anything yet, so she opens the first page to find that Castle has stuck the ultrasound image she gave him into the appropriate space, and in his own handwriting she sees that he's filled in the names of both the baby's parents on the following page – Katherine Houghton Beckett and Richard Edgar Castle - complete with their dates of birth to create a kind of family tree. There's space to add Alexis, Martha, and Kate's mom and dad when they're ready – this odd little family they've inadvertently created.

She forces back the tears that threaten at his unbelievably sweet gesture, choosing to carry on the conversation they were already having to buy herself some time to pull her thank you together without blubbering like the hormonal pregnant woman she actually is.

* * *

"Look, this is as much about you as it is about me," she explains, holding tight to the book in her lap.

"I don't follow."

"Well…are _you_ seeing anyone?"

" _No!_ " he declares indignantly, as if she just asked him if he had prostate trouble.

"Why are you being so defensive?"

"Why would you assume I'm seeing someone?"

"Well, you're a…healthy, single, eligible man. Why wouldn't you?" she asks, feeling her stomach turn at the thought of sharing him with anyone, especially now.

"I'm not interested in seeing anyone."

She frowns. "What…not ever?"

"Let's just focus on you right now and leave my…pathetic love life alone."

"Not like you to be so shy," she needles, secretly enjoying seeing him on the back foot for once, since he's usually the one to engage in prying if there's any prying to be done.

"Not like you to be so pushy," he tosses back, levelling the field.

"I just don't want you to feel you have to put your own life on hold for my sake. What's happened has happened and I didn't exactly give you a choice in the matter. It's too late now to end the pregnancy, not that I would have but…"

"For the record, I would never have wanted that, Kate. You made the right choice."

She smiles weakly. "That's great to know. But, Castle, we still messed up. We slept together and we didn't talk about…about _anything."_

"I don't regret what we did for a second. Do you?"

"Well…no."

"Other than what I did to push you away...poking my nose into your mother's case. I do regret that. And telling you when I did is possibly the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"Your timing wasn't great, I'll admit." She chews her lip.

"When is it ever? I just wanted to be honest with you, Beckett."

"I can see that, and I don't regret what we did either. I don't. But the fact remains, we were irresponsible."

"I assumed you were on—"

"See! That right there. You _assumed_."

"You're right. I'm sorry. Responsibility wasn't yours alone. If I'd used a condom—"

Kate strokes the baby scrapbook, which is still open at the page containing the ultrasound, and she sighs with agreeable resignation. "We wouldn't have her," she says bravely, more bravely than she actually feels.

Castle watches as Kate traces the outline of the baby's bubble-shaped head with her short, rounded nail, her features so soft, her eyes already full of love. "So…you're not mad at me?"

"Castle, I'm beyond mad. I'm terrified."

"Why?"

"Oh, come on. You cannot seriously be asking that. Look at me. I live alone. My fridge is always empty. I'm _terrible_ at relationships. My best friend cuts up dead people for a living and I hardly ever—"

"Whoa! Wait. I thought _I_ was your best friend?" he protests.

Kate laughs, and in doing so she feels the lightest she's felt all day. "Says who?"

"Don't laugh. And says…everyone."

"No. No, everyone says we're _sleeping_ together. That's different."

"Well, then they'd be right."

"Oh, God forgive me for asking, but why on earth would they be right about that?"

" _We_ slept together," he states indignantly.

"Once."

"And we made a baby, Beckett. How cool is that?" His glee is akin to that of a sixteen year old boy who just passed himself off as twenty-one to score his first drink in a bar. Given the circumstances, it seems a little crass and inappropriate, even if it is trademark Castle just trying to lighten the moment.

"If you say your sperm are super human I'm throwing you out of my apartment right now," Kate counters with more humor than anger, and maybe more tolerance than the situation actually deserves, especially when viewed from her point of view.

The look he gives her says he's been thinking exactly that, and so she glares at him until her glare melts into a stupid grin she can't contain when she's faced with his unrelenting, utter glee. Because it's clear some part of him is pleased she ended up pregnant the first time they slept together. And crazy as that is, maybe this thing he has going on with fate is in her best interest, since it seems to be taking life's serious decisions out of her hands entirely.

"Please tell me you didn't hit the jackpot with Meredith first time out the gates as well?"

Castle wrinkles his nose in distaste at the thought of his ex-wife and vigorously shakes his head. "No. And this is not the same thing in any way."

"That sounds so definite you've been thinking that's exactly what this is."

Castle balks at her piecing stare and narrowed eyes. "How do you do that?" he whines.

"Do what?"

"Read my mind. It's freakish."

"Try being on my end of that party trick," she says dryly.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"Not in front of the kid," he jokes, aiming an amused glance at her stomach.

* * *

Now that they've lightened things a little and she's able to talk, she takes the opportunity to thank him for the gift. "This book is amazing, Castle," she says, her gaze falling softly to where their names are written side-by-side. "Thank you so much. And elephants. It's just…perfect."

"You're welcome. I get the feeling our little girl will have quite the life story to tell. Thought we should start her off right."

Kate studies him for a second before she says, "I'm glad I'm doing this with you." Her admission is spontaneous and therefore one-hundred percent honest. Her own burst of candor makes her blush. "I mean…if I have to do it…have a child, that is."

"I just wish we'd done _this_ before," Castle remarks, taking a slug from his bottle of beer.

"Done what?"

"You know. Just hung out, drunk beer, talked about our feelings…"

"Painted each other's nails?"

"I'm up for that."

Kate pokes his socked foot with her bare toes. "Idiot."

"No, I mean it. We're doing this backwards."

Kate stiffens at all this comment might be made to mean. She remembers her promise to herself from earlier: not to take advantage of Castle in any way. She can indulge no prospect of a relationship that's more intimate than the one they already have just because she's feeling lonely or vulnerable or even because she cares for him and begins to mix her strong feelings for their child up with feelings she has for the man who helped make her. By sticking firmly to this rule she won't hurt Castle in the long run when a child is the only thing keeping them together.

"No, we're not," she says quietly. "We're really not. Look, it's getting late. Would you mind? I've been turning in early the last couple of weeks."

"Tired all the time? Yeah, Meredith was like that until about halfway through her second trimester and then she got really—"

"If you say frisky or some other version of that sentiment, Castle, so help me…"

"Sorry. You're right. This has nothing to do with Meredith. Any of it. Thousands of women have babies every day and you're just one of them. I'll keep reminding myself of that. No more ex-wife stories, I promise."

* * *

Kate stands and Castle takes his cue, standing too.

"Thank you for the beautiful book. I really appreciate it. Anything you want to add to it…feel free to pass it along and I'll stick it in there."

He walks to the door, grasps the handle and then turns back to ask her something that looks as if it's been weighing on his mind. "Can I ask you something?"

Kate crosses her arms over her chest, part defense and partly for the sake of propriety. "Can't promise I'll answer but you can ask."

"If there wasn't…you know…a baby, would you have let me...or even asked me to come back to the precinct?"

She runs a hand through her hair and studies the floor for a second. "Castle, I honestly don't know. It's—"

"Don't tell me. I know. It's complicated," he sighs, already backing away from her.

"Don't be like that."

"Goodnight, Beckett," he intones from several feet away.

"Yeah. Goodnight."

She chews on her cheek, worrying her next thought until time presses her to make a decision, and she leaps.

"Hey, Castle?" she calls out after him.

Ever polite, he stops and turns. "Mm?"

"If we get a body drop…should I call or…you too busy scrapbooking these days?"

He hurries back along the hall until he's standing in front of her open door once more, bouncing on his toes with excitement. "Really?"

Kate cannot help her grin, even as she scolds him. "Don't make me regret this. And no more digging, okay? You have to promise. I cannot fall down that rabbit hole right now."

Castle swipes at the front of his jacket in a cross-my-heart gesture. "I promise."

"And…you let me tell Montgomery and the guys my way. When I ready. About the baby, I mean."

"Of course." He looks fit to burst with excitement at that prospect too.

Kate groans inwardly. "Then I guess I'll maybe see you tomorrow?"

He flies in to kiss her cheek, utterly surprising her, large hands grasping her shoulders for a fleeting second to prevent her from toppling, and then he's off again down the hall just as fast, heading for the stairs.

"Count on it, Detective," he calls over his shoulder, leaving her with a cheery wave and a bounce in his step that is in direct contrast to the demeanor of the man she found lurking outside her door earlier tonight.

Her ability to affect his moods and thus his life, even the lives of his family, is such a powerful tool, and one she has to remind herself again that she cannot abuse. No matter how devoted he might become to her because of the baby, he's simply doing his duty by their child, nothing more. That's what she tells herself as she closes and locks her front door, preparing to go to bed alone once more.

Tucked up ten minutes later, with Castle's memory book lying on top of the comforter by her side and his handkerchief balled up in the palm of her hand, she's asleep almost as her head hits the pillow, instantly dreaming about a lost baby elephant wandering the streets of Manhattan alone.


End file.
